


Jealous Energy

by IneffableToreshi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), First Kiss, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25569997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: Crowley is less than pleased when he shows up to the bookshop and finds a handsome customer obviously flirting with HIS angel. What's worse, the burk keeps coming back!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 327





	Jealous Energy

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a short I wrote as a prize for a DTIYS challenge on Instagram. The winner was one Miss Marie-Luise (@mindfulmanufaktur on Instagram) and the prompt she chose was a jealous Crowley performing little acts of rebellion in his frustration. It was a super-fun little prompt since jealous!Crowley wasn't something I'd really covered before, so thank you again to Marie-Luise for the fun idea, and of course for participating in my DTIYS!
> 
> \---
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

The first time it happened was roughly two weeks after the world didn’t end. 

In the decades since the original opening of A.Z. Fell & Co. Crowley had been privy to plenty of opportunities to watch Aziraphale deal with customers. The angel’s bookshop was, after all, much more of a personal hoard than anything else, and so the platinum-blond bookworm spent most of his business hours actively chasing prospective customers from the premises. Oh, there was occasionally a lovely young literary student whom Aziraphale would decide truly deserved that well-loved copy of whatever it was they were seeking, or perhaps another collector whom the angel would determine was exceptional enough to be trusted with that first edition or that rare print error. In general, however, Aziraphale had made quite the amusing habit of doing everything in his power to convince paying customers to leave and never return. 

It was just a bit disconcerting, therefore, when Crowley sauntered into the shop that day to find the angel leaning casually across the cash counter, chatting and laughing amicably with a customer who wasn’t even holding a book. 

It  _ shouldn’t  _ have been disconcerting...it was just some  _ human _ man, after all, and Aziraphale  _ was _ plenty friendly when one wasn’t looking to part him from his precious books. But it was the second glance at the scene before him that had Crowley’s insides writhing in a very nauseating way. 

Firstly, there was the already-established fact that the man wasn’t even holding a book, which brought to question that if he wasn’t looking to buy something, what was he even doing here?

Secondly, there was the fact that the man in question was rather handsome; a middle-aged gentleman who clearly took care of himself and was just as well-dressed as Aziraphale (if significantly more modernly). 

Thirdly was the fact that Aziraphale’s gaze had only flickered toward Crowley for a moment when he entered - just long enough to shoot him a welcoming smile - before settling back on the human with mirth in his eyes and a chuckle on his lips. 

Crowley’s fingers squeezed subconsciously around the paper bag of treats from the bakery down the street that he’d been bringing to the angel. His eyes narrowed dangerously behind his glasses. Who the fuck did this random human think he was, making  _ his  _ angel smile and laugh like that? That was  _ his  _ job. Always had been, always would be. 

“Oh that is so true, Robert!” rang Aziraphale’s angelic voice, full of sweet amusement. His grin was wide and genuine, his eyes bright and attentive, his perfectly-manicured fingers on the counter mere inches from those of the handsome man across from him. 

Whose fingers had been there first? That was the question Crowley’s mind suddenly began screaming. Whose hand had crept closer to whose as the conversation advanced? 

The man -  _ Robert _ \- opened his mouth to say something else (presumably something  _ exceptionally witty and oh-so-charming _ ) and before Crowley knew he’d done it his fingers snapped. From further into the shop Aziraphale’s ancient gramophone blared to life at full volume, the dulcet tones of Freddie Mercury practically shaking the bookshelves. 

Robert nearly jumped out of his skin in his surprise. His wide eyes and the way his hand flew to his chest gave with an undignified yelp gave Crowley a sick little moment of pleasure. In a move that was designed purely as a reason to show off and be needlessly cocky, Crowley started a slithering, sauntering, sexy little dance to the music as he made his way gradually over to the counter. 

“Gram’ on the fritz, angel?” the demon asked with a shit-eating grin. Before Aziraphale could respond (and possibly scold him for his little trick), he lifted the bag of treats and leaned over the counter to present them. He made absolutely sure, in doing so, that his hip was cocked and his arse was blocking Robert from returning to his previous location. “Brought you some goodies.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows, which had previously been lifted in surprise, lowered his eyes predictably lit up at the offering. “Oh, my dear, you shouldn’t have!” he trilled (which, of course, was Aziraphale-Speak for “Of course you should have; you always should!”), and took the bag to rummage through it. A pleased little gasp fell from his lips when he spotted the chocolate eclair. 

Behind Crowley, a confused human man blinked, opened and closed his mouth several times, and finally raised his voice above the music to say, “I’ll, uh...I’ll just be going then.”

“Yes, of course, mind how you go,” Aziraphale responded without even looking up from his sugary feast. 

Which, of course, prompted Crowley to smirk mercilessly at the man as he left. 

* * *

The second time it happened was a mere three days later. 

Crowley was meant to be picking Aziraphale up to go to a local acting troupe’s rendition of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Normally the angel would have come striding out the moment the Bentley pulled up to the curb, which was why Crowley didn’t bother hopping out. After a full sixty seconds, however, the angel hadn’t shown himself, so the demon parked the car and climbed out with an annoyed frown. The bookshop’s door, surprisingly, wasn’t locked (though it would have opened for Crowley regardless), which made the demon’s frown deepen. The shop should have been closed at least half an hour ago, even if the angel had bothered to actually keep it open for the full posted hours (which he regularly didn’t).

When the demon entered and saw exactly why Aziraphale had failed to close the shop on time, Crowley felt a low growl building up in his throat. 

Robert was here again, looking as damnably handsome as he had last time, and this time he was playing dirty. He had a book of some kind - clearly very old, presumably at least a little bit rare - and was gazing at Aziraphale with a disgustingly pleased grin on his face while the angel fawned over it. The angel in question was so interested in the piece that he didn’t even notice the little bell above the shop’s door jingle. Robert, however, did, and shifted his gaze just long enough to flash a sly little smile in the demon’s direction.

Crowley’s eye twitched behind his glasses. He felt his fangs threatening to make an appearance as his angel sighed something about “-pristine condition, with such lovely illustrations-”. His jaw twitched and his fingers clenched hard enough to break the skin on his palms. 

“This is an absolutely stunning edition, Robert,” Aziraphale praised, eyes glued to the tome beneath his gloved fingers. 

“Hardly the most stunning thing in this shop,” Robert responded with a lascivious smile. Aziraphale wasn’t looking, so didn’t see the wolfish gleam in the human’s eye. 

Crowley, however, was a demon, and as a demon was quite capable of feeling the surge of lust, and unfortunately for Robert this only served to fuel his anger. 

The demon, still gone rather frustratingly unnoticed by the only being in the shop who mattered, quietly slipped behind a bookshelf and pretended to browse until he was well out of view. Once hidden, he gave up on holding his corporation in check. Instead he let his form wriggle and writhe, allowed his fangs to pierce through, and undulated against the hardwood floor beneath him. He wasn’t as large as he could be - it wouldn’t do to have a human thinking something truly monstrous was living in Soho - but he was large enough for the purpose he intended. Without giving himself any further time to consider or contemplate, Crowley slithered back out toward the shop’s cash counter and reared up with a vicious hiss when he came upon a jean-clad leg. 

For a few moments there was silence, followed by instant chaos. A ridiculously high-pitched squeal (that Crowley savored with a mental chuckle) was followed by a panicked dance of feet as the large black-and-red serpent slunk and darted around the human’s legs. He reared and struck several times, never  _ actually  _ sinking his fangs into flesh, but definitely doing his best to make it seem as if he was  _ trying  _ to. 

“Oh my goodness, I must apologize, Robert dear,” came an angelic voice from above. “I don’t know what this naughty boy is doing down here, but I assure you that he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” The claim was punctuated by strong, confident hands reaching down to scoop the snake up. The moment he was in Aziraphale’s arms Crowley calmed completely, wriggling around the angel’s shoulders to give him a playful squeeze and to glare silently at the quite petrified human now standing several feet away with his book clutched to his chest. 

“Oh, I-I’m quite sure, but, uh, oh! Look at the time!” Robert stammered, almost incoherent. “I really shouldn’t be keeping you, I’ll just, uh-” He turned and barely lifted his hand for a wave before all but running out the door with a squeaky call of, “Another time perhaps!”

Crowley watched the escape with the snake equivalent of an evil grin. 

Aziraphale adjusted them both until he was looking into those golden, slitted eyes, and for a moment Crowley cringed back, expecting that he was about to be scolded for being such a, well... _ demon _ . But then Aziraphale’s gaze caught on the old cuckoo clock on the wall and he let out a little gasp of alarm. “Oh my goodness, I must apologize, my dear,” the angel said while gingerly placing the serpent back down on the floor. “I had completely lost track of the time. Let me just grab my coat and we’ll get a wiggle on, shall we?”

* * *

The third time Crowley was already in the shop. 

He was lounging about and generally being a nuisance to customers, as was his wont to do these days. He’d just deftly removed a first edition that he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t be willing to part with from an inattentive woman’s basket, when he heard what had quickly become the most reviled human voice he’d ever had the displeasure of becoming acquainted with. 

“Lovely day, isn’t it Aziraphale?”

The demon’s teeth automatically clenched together, hard. He had to consciously restrain himself from squeezing the precious book in his hands to dust, before carefully placing it on a shelf on which he knew the woman wouldn’t relocate it. 

“Oh my goodness, Robert, how kind! But you really shouldn’t have, you know.”

Crowley’s blood began to boil at the sweet, grateful tone of his angel’s voice. He slithered and slunk around the stacks until he was in a position to peer around a corner toward the source of the voices.  _ Robert  _ had met Aziraphale near his writing desk and handed him one of two steaming paper mugs from a coffee shop around the corner. The angel was gifting the human a gracious smile that made Crowley’s fingers nearly crush straight through the shelf he was clinging to, but he was at least a little vindicated by the note of disappointment carefully hidden in the angel’s eyes. The human clearly hadn’t learned anything about Aziraphale’s favorites, as he’d presented coffee with a bit of cream and sugar instead of one of the angel’s go-to teas or a nice, hot cocoa. 

“Oh, well I was just in the area, you know,” Robert lied through his disgustingly-perfect teeth, “and I thought you might enjoy a pick-me-up, running this big shop all alone every day.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. Was this stupid human implying that his angel couldn’t handle a bit of retail? Or (and a growl actually did escape his throat at this thought) that his beautiful, gorgeous,  _ infallible  _ angel  _ looked bloody tired?! _

A friendly chat had started up while Crowley glared with unfettered hatred. How fucking  _ dare _ this human act so overtly friendly toward his angel? How  _ dare _ he bring little tokens - especially little tokens that  _ weren’t even bloody correct _ \- of affection? How  _ dare  _ he insinuate...whatever-the-fucking-hell he was insinuating!? How, just-  _ How very fucking dare he?! _

Aziraphale and Robert laughed in tandem at something the human had said, and Crowley’s fingers finally did split the wood beneath them. In the next beat the air was rent with numerous sirens blaring up and down the street in dissonant intervals. Both Aziraphale and the human-who- _ fucking-dared _ -to-be-so-familiar-with-him jumped and looked out the nearest window. Outside countless humans were scrambling in confusion as every vehicle parked within a mile radius had its alarm screaming - even vehicles too old to  _ have  _ an alarm. The only exception was Crowley’s Bentley, which was sitting quite quietly and obediently outside the shop, wondering what on Earth its owner was getting up to. 

“How very odd,” Aziraphale voiced as he peered out the window at the chaos. His tone was casual, but if one had been looking from the right angle they may have seen the tiny hint of a knowing smile. 

“I, uh-” Robert seemed completely bewildered by the shrieking and screaming perpetrated by the dozens of vehicles, his own included. “Odd indeed. I- hmm...I suppose I’d better go see if I can shut mine off…” His voice trailed off in a way that suggested he thought he was being pranked, but at an affirmative noise from Aziraphale he frowned, apologized for the short visit, and took his leave. 

Once he was gone the angel turned to examine a small section of splintered shelf, by which there was no demon to be found. 

* * *

The final time it happened, was less than a month after the first, and it was absolutely the final fucking straw. 

The angel and the demon had been having a positively lovely day together. Aziraphale had closed the shop early (hardly a great inconvenience to the reluctant bookseller) and they’d made a day of visiting several art shows (one of which contained a rather lovely oil painting that Crowley had posed for in the 8th century), an ancient Egypt exhibit (where they’d snickered together over the factual discrepancies), and a new Mediterranean restaurant that Aziraphale had been dying to visit since it opened. Now they were enjoying a slow stroll through the park as the sun was just beginning to set. It was - in Crowley’s personal opinion - the perfect end to a perfect day. 

That was, until a familiar voice called out Aziraphale’s name and set the demon’s entire corporation humming with frustration and fury. 

The angel turned to the sound of his name and let his face break into a beatific smile. “Oh, hello Robert, dear,” he welcomed as the human jogged up to him with a handsome grin. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Quite,” the human agreed, chuckling and completely ignoring the seething redhead standing next to them. “But I’m so glad I ran into you! See, I just heard about this estate sale, and it’s said to include quite a large collection of the previous owner’s personal library, so of course I thought of you and was wondering if you’d like to-”

Crowley had moved without even realizing it. He found himself firmly placed between his angel and this insipid, unworthy human, glaring with genuine rage over the top of his glasses to give Robert a hint of the demon within. “That isss fucking  _ it _ ,” he hissed, letting just a bit of the snake out in his words. “That isss absolutely fucking  _ it _ . Can’t you take a hint?” He leaned in, radiating anger, until his nose was practically touching Robert’s. “Azsssiraphale is  _ mine _ , mate” he growled. “Ssso  _ fuck off _ .”

To the demon’s immense surprise, the human barely twitched, merely lifting his chin a bit and staring back to show how unaffected he was by the demon’s glare. Brave? Or idiotic? Crowley’s bet was on the latter. “That so?” Robert sniffed. Then he actually  _ smirked _ . “Prove it then, and I’ll back off.”

He clearly hadn’t actually expected the redhead to do anything, but the words were barely out of the Robert’s mouth before Crowley had spun with the word, “Fine!” ripped from his throat, grabbed the shoulders of a very surprised angel, and pressed their lips together like the world was ending all over again. It was fast, and hot, and passionate, and absolutely  _ saturated _ in desperate, possessive jealousy. 

And the moment Crowley pulled away, with the intent of hissing a, “Good enough for ya?!” at the gawking human, his brain finally caught up with him and processed precisely what he had just done. 

Aziraphale was staring back at him with wide eyes, kiss-reddened lips parted in surprise, cheeks flushed an incredibly attractive pink. . 

Crowley felt all the blood rush out of his face - hell, out of his entire corporation . His throat went dry, his pupils shrank to panicked slits, and the hands that had been gripping Aziraphale’s shoulders pulled sharply away, trembling in abject terror. 

_ That’s it. You’ve officially fucked up for the last time. It’s all over. He’ll never want to see you again.  _

“A-angel! I- I didn’t mean- Please, I- S-ssshit, Azira- I-” His words were high, squeaky, desperate, tinged with the threat of tears…

...and were effectively cut off at the source when Aziraphale’s lips were suddenly on his again, pressing against him with purpose. 

The demon’s brain stuttered and shut down entirely. He became, momentarily, a creature of sensation alone, melting against the warm hands wrapping around the backs of his waist and neck. Soft, heated lips worked against his own with distinct intent, drawing out a surprised, needy little whine from the back of the demon’s throat. By the time Aziraphale drew away (taking a second, desperate whine from the demon along with him) Crowley was a puddle in the angel’s arms, gone boneless and limp, without a single thought in his head beyond, “ _ Angel...lips...warm...more…please...” _

He barely heard the short conversation that followed as Aziraphale gently sent Robert on his way, but once the human was gone the angel’s fingers wove up into the demon’s hair and yanked him unceremoniously back to reality. 

“What- you- I- that-” The string of brainless, aborted nonsense fell from Crowley’s lips for several long moments before Aziraphale chuckled and leaned in to place a soft, sweet kiss on the corner of the demon’s mouth. 

“Hmm, yes, I rather agree,” the angel said with an absolutely sinful little smile. 

There were more disjointed thoughts screaming through Crowley’s mind than there were stars in the night sky, and somehow the one that his vocal cords managed to catch on was, “Did you  _ know  _ that human was flirting with you?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks pinkened a little more, but he also bit his lip coquettishly and looked up at Crowley from beneath fluttering eyelashes. “I did, my dear,” he admitted, “and I do apologize for allowing it to go on for so long, but, well...there was just something so wonderfully  _ delicious  _ about the way you were getting all worked up and jealous…” He fluttered his eyelashes again, the picture of innocence. “I really just couldn’t resist.”

“You  _ bastard _ ,” Crowley hissed, but it was half-laugh, half-disbelieving huff. “So you- Does this mean-?” He shrank in upon himself, just a bit. From over the tops of his glasses, which had fallen to the tip of his nose, his eyes darted to Aziraphale’s lips, to the perfectly-manicured hand still clutching possessively to the demon’s hip, and back to the angel’s bright blue eyes. 

And those eyes were positively  _ glowing  _ with love. 

“Yes, my dearest,” Aziraphale whispered, and reached around to gently draw the glasses from his demon’s face. “Of course, yes. Until the end of time.”

Crowley didn’t whimper - he definitely, most  _ certainly  _ did  _ not  _ whimper - but very suddenly his face was pressed into Aziraphale’s neck and his shoulders were shaking while the angel held him close and whispered sweet, soothing declarations into his ear. One of those declarations was a four-letter word the demon had been dreaming of since he stood atop a Garden wall next to the only creature in the Universe who was worth knowing. 

When he was able to regain control of his voice, Crowley whispered that declaration right back, before bursting into joyous, raucous, entirely lunatic peals of laughter. Soon Aziraphale joined him, and before long the entire park was staring at them as though they’d completely lost their minds. Perhaps they had. 

“You know I’ll get you back for this little game you’ve been playing,” the demon snickered as he pressed mischievous kisses all over his angel’s throat and face. 

“I’m quite certain that you will,” Aziraphale chuckled, unconcerned. “But for now, I was thinking that perhaps this lovely day might become a lovely night...perhaps back at yours?”

Crowley blinked, momentarily uncomprehending, and then pulled back to stare at his angel with huge eyes blown gold to the very edges. “You mean-?”

Aziraphale couldn’t have looked more like a sinful little bastard if his eternal existence had depended on it. He reached to give a teasing little tug to Crowley’s thin silver scarf. “Let’s put all that pent-up jealous energy to good use, hmm?”

“NGK-”

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!


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